


The Memory of All That

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and June go out to celebrate her anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Memory of All That

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by lefaym

Neal walked into the office -- clean and far too new for his taste -- and sat down across from Peter. He tilted his chair back and propped his feet up on the desk. He knew all his little annoying acts only further endeared Peter to him. Or at least, this was the theory Neal had been running with for a while.

Without looking away from his computer, Peter reached his hand over to Neal's feet and snapped his fingers twice.

"Good morning to you, too," Neal said, dropping his feet onto the floor. He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I need to leave early today."

Peter glanced up, turning his chair toward Neal. He seemed unimpressed. "You _need_ to leave early? I don't think so. You leave when I tell you can leave. Besides, you just got here."

"But I have a date."

"Do I look like I care?"

"Honestly? You kinda do."

Peter made a face. "Where'd you meet this one? The Met? Starbucks? Corner of Park and 73rd?"

Neal chuckled and set his elbows on the desk and placing his chin on top of his folded hands. "You've met her, actually. Nice, very classy. Older lady. She lets me live in her home."

Peter laughed, tilting back in his chair. "You're going on a date with June?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Neal sat back. It was his turn to appear unimpressed. "June is an incredibly sophisticated woman."

Peter raised his eyebrows.

He had to know the eyebrow raise said more than words ever could. Elizabeth must love that.

Neal smiled. "It's her anniversary. Hers and Byron's. She mentioned it last week and I thought it'd be nice to take her out. Dinner, dancing, maybe take in a show. Do something they would have done together. Unfortunately, you don't get dinner theatre like you used to."

Smiling fondly, Peter said, "You really do remind her of him, don't you?"

"I think it's comforting for her. I know Byron was stylish, he must have been charming and good-looking on top of it."

"And probably annoying as hell," Peter added.

Neal hummed appreciatively. "So, can I leave early, or what?"

Peter considered him for a moment. "For June. This has nothing to do with you."

"Never thought it did."

\--- ---- ----

"Oh, Neal, this is wonderful," June said, smiling over her Oysters Rockefeller. "Thank you."

"Hey, don't thank me yet. The night is still young." Neal grinned. "We haven't even had our entrées yet."

June picked up her wine, an especially dry Sauvignon Blanc, and took a sip.

She looked beautiful in the dim light of the restaurant, just as she had in the house in her long blue dress and cream colored silk scarf around her neck. It wasn't difficult for Neal to imagine her in the sixties, as cool and collected as she was right now in front of him. He never knew Byron, but Neal knew something about being a charmer; you had to know the difference between the girls you flirt with, the girls you take out, and the one you come home to. It was easy to see, even now, why Byron would have wanted to come home to June every single night.

Neal smiled at the opening chords of Gershwin from the piano in the corner. "I love this song." He stretched his hand across the table, carefully avoiding their glasses and the appetizer dishes. "Would you like to dance?"

"Of course," June replied, taking his hand. "I thought you'd never ask."

"I wore the blue suit, didn't I? Isn't this the suit Byron wore when you went dancing?" Neal asked as he slid out of his seat. His brushed his fingers against the smooth fabric of the suit jacket with his free hand.

She grinned. "You remembered."

They walked hand-in-hand to the dance floor where only two other couples swayed slowly to the familiar tune. Neal pulled June close and she smiled up at him. "I love this," she said.

"Me too. I haven't been dancing since I got out of prison," Neal said. He hummed along with the tune before singing softly at the top of the verse, "_The way you wear your hat, the way you sip your tea. The memory of all that, no they can't take that away from me._"

"You have a lovely voice," June said when Neal's voice trailed off.

"Boys choir at church for six years," Neal replied, stepping back on one foot to spin June under his arm.

She laughed as she spun back toward him. "I'm sure you can understand why I have a hard time imagining that."

"Choir?"

"Church."

"Oh." Neal chuckled. "My mother insisted. Every Sunday until I was fourteen. It did me well, don't you think?"

June smiled up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. "Is she the one who taught you how to dance?"

"She put me in dance lessons. It was important to her that I was cultured unlike my wayfaring vagabond father." Neal grinned. "As you can see, it sort of worked. Ahhh -- _the way we danced 'til three. The way you changed my life, no, no, they can't take that away from me._"

"Beautiful," June said, as they separated and walked back to their table where their entrées were waiting for them. "That was a lovely dance. How long did you take the dance lessons?"

"Only a couple of years. My teacher said if you know the basics, you know everything. That's not exactly true, but when it was clear I wasn't going to be a professional ballroom dancer, she lost interest in teaching me. I still remember a few moves." Neal picked up his knife and fork and cut into his steak. It was perfect. "What about you? Tell me about yourself. I know almost nothing about you."

"There isn't much to tell," June replied.

Neal narrowed his eyes and smirked. "I don't believe that for a second. On the day we met, you told me about playing poker with Sy Devore. Your life must be fascinating."

She lifted one shoulder in a classy shrug. "There are interesting days, Neal. And there were lots of them, and they were wonderful, but what is it you boys always say?"

"May you live in interesting times?"

"No, the other one." She lifted her wine glass and swirled the light-bodied Shiraz they had chosen earlier for dinner before taking a sip.

Neal lifted his chin. "May you find what you're looking for."

"That's it." June gazed at him for a moment over the rim of her glass, considering him before setting her glass down on the table with a soft _clink_, dulled by the tablecloth. "I found what I was looking for everyday. When I stopped, I knew it was time to make a change in my life. That's when I started clearing out Byron's things from the guest room. That's when I met you."

"And have things not been interesting?" Neal asked, flashing her a grin.

"Oh, they have," she replied, smiling at him, but she was clearly not fooled by his charm. She wouldn't be, not someone who read people as well as June. Thank god for that; Neal wouldn't have a place to live otherwise. At least not one where he wanted to live.

"So, what's the advice here?" he asked.

"There isn't advice, Neal, except..." June paused to choose her words carefully. "Maybe things are more interesting when you've found what you're looking for. Especially if it's something you didn't know you were looking for in the first place."

Neal mulled over her comment for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow toward her. "Like a job with the FBI."

"That's one example."

Neal knew June was an intelligent woman. He didn't know how much she knew about his pursuit of Kate, if anything, but she had to know his work with the FBI wasn't what he was looking for.

"We should eat," June said quickly, before Neal could respond.

They ate in a heavy silence for a few minutes, until Neal finally caught June's eye and winked. She smiled back at him. Neal's smile spread into a grin and his eyes lit up.

"So what about the interesting days, then?"

\--- --- ---

After the Broadway play, Neal drove them back home in the Jag. He hadn't driven much since getting out of prison, but the Jag always fit like one of the FBI's white cotton gloves. When they were in the house, Neal walked June to her bedroom door, like the gentleman he was. He couldn't very well walk her to the front door, then walk in after her.

"I had a wonderful time," June said, taking one of Neal's hands in hers. "Thank you so much for this."

"It was my pleasure," Neal replied. He tilted his head down slowly and pressed a kiss to June's lips. There was a hesitation, surprise, from her, but she kissed him in return. He stroked her cheek with his thumb before pulling back slowly. "Is there anything else you need, June?" he asked pointedly, leaning toward the bedroom door. She was perceptive; he knew she'd understand.

June smiled and put a hand to Neal's cheek. "Tonight's been perfect, Neal. You've already given me everything I could have wanted."

"Are you sure?" Neal asked, pressing his chin to his chest. "It is your anniversary."

"Yes, but it's not yours."

Neal studied her for a moment before smiling and nodding. "Well, goodnight, June."

"Goodnight, Neal."

He waited until she was in her bedroom, just like he would any woman at her front door.

When the door was shut, Neal turned around and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he walked toward his room, humming Gershwin.


End file.
